Forget Me Not
by moomolie1709
Summary: Just when he thought they would finally be together, she forgot. Now he has to make her remember, or lose her forever. AU, Clato.
1. Chapter 1

_Just when he thought they would finally be together, she forgot. Now he has to make her remember, or lose her forever. _

**Chapter One: Prologue**

She had lived seventeen years, but she couldn't remember any of it. Her new memory began on that day she woke up in a hospital room surrounded by white.

As if she had been released from a horrific nightmare, she woke up in a cold sweat. Air chilled against her pale alabaster skin as rich brown eyes shot open, peering behind a veil of dark brunette hair. Immediate confusion plagued her conscious as she struggled to comprehend her current circumstance. But no matter how hard she tried to figure out what was happening, she couldn't.

Before she got the chance to properly take in her situation, a shooting pain through her skull sent her body reeling back onto the mattress. Falling onto the bed again, she instinctively wrapped her arms to shield her head from an unknown force. Something resembling a whimper escaped her throat, and the noise sounded so alien that she could hardly recognize it as her own.

"Clove," a deep voice suddenly interrupted.

Too preoccupied with trying to understand what was happening, she had failed to sense the presence sitting right beside her. He was on top of a stool next to her bed, his body stiff and rigid. Strikingly blue orbs, narrowed in her direction, followed her every move. He was broad shouldered, donning a collection of grazes and bruises that ran from his neck all the way down to his hands. A plaster cast sheltered his left wrist, but he didn't appear to be seriously injured. His gaze was pulling her in, an attraction she hoped to avoid.

"Thank God," he muttered, "They said you might not wake up—" Without warning, his arm extended forward and he rested his hand on the side of her face. It was a soft and tender gesture, an intimacy she wasn't used to. "I don't know what I would do without you,"

Her breath came short as her lungs seemed to stop functioning. The pain in her head intensified, and she winced visibly. She roughly pushed his touch away.

"Clove," his tone suddenly turned grave as he realized something wrong with the girl before him. Her heart beat painfully against her ribs, and she gasped for air. He made her nervous. It was unexplainable, but something innate inside her told her to stay away. He was dangerous, and that was it. The realization hit him then, and his jaw tightened. "You don't recognize me," It was more a statement than a question.

He spoke the truth; she hadn't the slightest clue to his identity. She had no idea why he was so intimate with her. Perhaps they had been acquaintances, maybe even friends. No, they were more than that.

A brief expression of pain flashed across his face. But in an instant it disappeared, and any sign of emotion was gone from his stoic gaze. He abruptly jumped to his feet. Standing at his full height, he towered over the bed. With a few short strides, he was by the door. "Doctor!" he called out angrily into the hall, "Doctor!"

"Stay here," he ordered her before disappearing. A minute later, he returned with a full entourage. There were a number of faces she couldn't recognize, it was clear that they all knew her. Full on chaos ensued as a nurse took her arm and placed an IV into her vein. Another woman went to her side, running some tests. Someone must have been speaking to her, but she couldn't hear anything.

Too many people were around her, and she was suffocating. The room began to spin, the energy drained from her limbs. She watched removed from the entire scene, observing the pandemonium from afar.

She watched the blond boy from before corner an older man into a wall, his index finger pointed aggressively into his chest. He must have been shouting something. Everyone else around them were afraid of the young man, she could sense their fear.

Intimidated as she was by him, she wasn't scared of him.

What was going on? Who was he?

Then she felt a pinch on the inside of her forearm, and her line of vision flicked to the needle stuck into her flesh. The nurse was again cooing something, but she couldn't hear it.

Before long, everything went black. Her body collapsed as she shut down completely. The darkness that had enveloped her felt secure, and even if only for a fleeting moment, she began to feel relaxed. She welcomed the return to numbness, because she knew when she woke up, a whole other world would be waiting for her.

**End Chapter One**

A/N: Details on how the Games ended (in this version) to be revealed. If you would like to see more, or want me to continue, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

She meant the world to him, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

This girl, so tiny, so breakable, so insignificant, had turned out to be the one person he'd risk anything for. And when he saw what he had thought to be her lifeless body collapse onto the empty field, he'd lost it. His sanity, control, everything went out the window in a blink of an eye.

Suddenly, the lethal, lost, and beautifully twisted girl he'd known had been reduced to a shrieking victim begging for her life. He'd heard her cries, and rushed to help her. He didn't think she could have sounded so scared. She would never admit it aloud, but she was the most noble and strong willed individual he'd ever met. She didn't want this life, neither of them did. He became her only salvation, and she his sole confidant. The circumstance of their budding friendship was less than ideal, but that never stopped him from loving her.

He vowed to protect her forever, but he had failed.

The events of that day blurred together, and he began to doubt the reality of it all. In one move, he'd torn through the oaf of a Tribute from District 11. He didn't spare a second glance toward his victim as he ran to her side. As the slight heave of her chest ceased, he found he couldn't breathe either.

No tears came to his eyes, and the only thing he'd felt was the gaping void that had manifested deep into the heart of his chest. He dropped to his knees, his arms hung limp by his sides, his weapon crashed onto the ground. He pulled her close in his arms, whispering into her ear and begging her to stay with him. An agonizing scream left his body as he embraced her, but it was too late. Almost methodically, he laid her done on the grass, brushed a stray lock of hair from visage, and rose to his feet. His grip on the hilt of his sword was so tight that he could feel the blood trickle down his wrist, but he paid it no attention.

A switch had flipped, and he went off in a silently blind rage. It hadn't been difficult to track down the District 12 Tributes, the boy was severely wounded and the girl wouldn't leave her lover's side. At first, he contemplated sacrificing his own vitality to preserve the lives of the widely publicized star-crossed-lovers.

To let them live, to allow them to carry on, it would have been what she wanted him to do. For as much as people wanted people to believe her a cold hearted killer, she had the warmest heart he'd ever know.

But as much as he wanted to let them go free, he couldn't.

No.

Cato decided if he wasn't allowed to be with the one he loved, then no one could. They didn't deserve it, not when they had contributed to her brutal demise.

It was easy to intimidate them. The girl had been more of a challenge to eliminate than the crippled boy. He remembered Loverboy from before, the one who had allied himself with the Careers, only to protect his beloved partner. He'd stuck the fool in the thigh with one of his swords, and the injury had been too serious for him to recover from.

After he hacked through the boy, the girl had collapsed in a mess of tears. How weak, to show her emotions like that. She had been the popular choice as victor, all of the other Tributes knew it even before the games began. She was fierce though, almost as fierce as the one he cared for.

But it was her mistake to resemble Clove, for it only made the rage inside him escalate. He killed her without hesitating.

Covered in blood that didn't belong to him, he treaded back to the field. Surprisingly, the game keepers had not taken her body away. There she was, looking as if she was sleeping. It was then that he realized no cannon had gone off for her, and that no one had declared him winner yet.

She was still alive.

A voice boomed over the stadium, declaring the two victors from District 2. The entire world had seen what he'd done, his monstrous strength, his undeniable affection for her. They had been careful to mask their relationship during the Games. The two of them were smarter than the rest of the tributes, and strategy was everything. They would let their emotions dictate the outcome of the competition, it would make them too easy to be exploited.

But now it was over, and they were both coming out.

The universe had worked in his favor, saving his life along with hers. Good things came to good people, it was a logic taught to young children everywhere. Too bad they weren't good people. She was comatose for a week after the end of the Games, the doctors found her unstable condition worrying.

But she woke up, just like he knew she would. He hadn't broken his promise to her, she wouldn't break hers to him. But as those dark eyes gazed into his, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. And for the second time in his life, he really panicked.

This wasn't Clove, she didn't know him at all.

He didn't have a cool temper to begin with, and too many of his questions were going unanswered. He had pushed the physician against the wall, his hands holding a strong grip on the little man's collar.

"Why doesn't she remember?" he growled, wrath dripping from his tone. He was shaking, he needed to keep his strength in check.

"We'll have to run more tests to be sure," the older man coughed, "Come back, and we'll have a more definitive conclusion,"

He dropped him to the floor and walked away, only stopping to spare her one last fleeting glance before storming out.

Oh, they better have hoped they would have answers the next time. Or there would be hell to pay.

**-p-**

Another three days had passed before he was allowed to see her again.

The Capitol wanted the two of them back on their feet, to commence the Victors' Tour as soon as possible. It didn't reflect well on the government when they declared two simultaneous winners, only to have one perish soon after. They didn't waste any time easing her into her situation.

She was given terse and abrupt explanations, a long reel of video footage from the Games to fill in the holes. She knew the basics of her life, but really nothing else.

"Cato," she greeted when he walked in. His name felt familiar on her tongue, and the sound of it from her lips sent a chill down his back.

"Hey," he countered, a semblance of a smile across his mouth. "How are you feeling?" He stood in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. He was dressed in his standard suit, looking neater and more premed than the first time she'd seen him.

"Fine," she answered tersely. She had been told her name, her District, her status as a Hunger Games' winner. And this was her partner.

But by the way he was looking at her, she was beginning to wonder if he was more.

"We need to leave soon,"

"I know,"

He stood before her, his hands now in his pant pockets. He scanned her image head to toe, "You look better,"

She nodded in acknowledgement as she slipped into the pair of heels waiting on the floor beneath her bed. The doctors had finally granted her the green light to leave the facility. She rose to her feet, smoothing down the skirt of her formal red dress. The piece of clothing was modest, the fabric fitted around her chest and waist and flowed down a few inches from her knees.

When she straightened herself up, he was right in front of her. She nearly walked straight into his chest.

He couldn't resist the temptation of being close to her again. She looked the same, sounded the same, she even smelled the same. But she was a different person now, and it was growing apparent that he wouldn't accept it. He restrained himself from gently running the back of his knuckles against her face.

"Thank you," she cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the close proximity between them. Her eyes concentrated on the tiling beneath their feet as she continued, "For saving me, during the Games,"

His face twisted with perplexity, before she went on. "They showed me the videos, of you taking out the boy who did this to me," She gestured to the back of her head, "He nearly bashed in the back of my head,"

She nearly winced at the image playing over and over again. A blunt object slamming into her head, the dark-skinned boy shouting at her with vengeful words. To be honest, the boy had every reason to be angry with her. She spoke of killing a defenseless twelve-year-old, savoring her death as if it were some kind of sport.

One nurse had said she was lucky to have long and dark hair to hide the scars. The woman didn't quite understand the invisible scars she would bear with her for the rest of her life.

He'd been instructed of his duty to fill the gaps in her memory. Her personal life, rather than the professional one the nation knew of. She didn't remember it, but there was no one who understood her better than him.

"I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you," he responded truthfully. Any strength or rage he carried with him those last hours of the Games had resulted from her alleged demise. "So, thank _you._"

She knew nothing of this boy before her. The way he carried himself was of a man beyond his eighteen years. She had seen him on screen, a horrible look in his eye as he killed his helpless competitors. None of it had been a fair fight. He was bigger, stronger than the rest of them. Not that she was exactly one to criticize.

She had an equally wicked smile upon her lips, as she cut through the other tributes with daggers. Sometimes she would look down at her own hands, wondering how she had been able to do it. All with an unremorseful and sadistic attitude to match his.

Careers, the announcers had called them. Killing machines engineered by their Districts, poor children manipulated and brainwashed to slaughter innocents in the name of glory.

"Who are you?" the question slipped out without forethought, and she paused. Taking a wobbly step back, she put her hand on his chest to establish a distance between them. But she didn't want him to think her vulnerable, not once did she divert her eyes from his. "I mean, who are you to me?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance.

"Are you two done yet? The car is waiting outside, and the press is getting restless!" a rough voice cut from outside the room.

Cato clenched his teeth as he reluctantly turned away from the brunette girl. "We're coming!" he shouted in the direction of the door. He faced her again, offering his hand to her. "Let's go,"

She didn't utter a word, but instead took his hand.

She knew nothing about the world around her, and nothing about him. But nonetheless, there was something safe about his presence. He was more than just familiar, and an unidentifiable force inside her told her she could trust him. She wasn't used to putting her faith in something she didn't understand, but then again, nothing made sense right now.

As he led her out of the building, she felt her grip tighten around his.

**End Chapter Two **

A/N: Hopefully this chapter gives you a better idea of where this story will be heading. Please review if you'd like me to continue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Her body could remember things her mind could not.

For the past week, Cato had refused her every effort to better understand the life she once lead. From her family to her full name, he ignored her pleas and simply brushed another stray lock of hair behind her ear. He would hush her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a manner that was so natural that she didn't bother questioning him.

She couldn't be sure, but she suspected the constant anxiety she felt was a new addition to her personality. Even the colorful multitude of pills she'd been prescribed weren't enough to calm her incessant state of panic. It was to expected, the doctors said. PTSD was common amongst victors.

Clove would have believed their explanations, if it weren't for the steady stability that her brick wall of a partner posed.

He never faltered, always so confident and sure in whatever he did. There was air of consistency with him. If he was ever nervous or insecure, he didn't show it. The mask he wore was infallible, and it took ample time for Clove to decode his emotions.

Her charcoal eyes scanned the scene outside the window, the slow hum of the train engine dying beneath her feet. Holding her breath, she shut her eyelids as she sensed the vehicle fall to a complete and still halt. This was it.

The Victors Tour had been cut short. There had been a series of 'incidents' in the Districts they visit. The trip kicked off in the higher districts, desolate and miserable places with embittered and resentful denizens. To say the least, neither Clove nor Cato were very welcome.

A rebellion was brewing, and though no one dared speak of it aloud, it was becoming common knowledge throughout all of Panem. It wasn't safe for them to travel. Besides, the doctors proclaimed Clove's condition unfit to travel. Skeptical but thankful of the excuse to rest, they turned around.

So here they were, back home. District 2. Home.

"Hey," his familiar voice whispered from behind.

His sudden presence didn't scare her other people's did. She was never afraid of him, no matter how intimidated she felt around him. Some people they met along the way were utterly terrified of the brooding young man.

Common sense told her to beware of him too. But for some reason, she knew he would never hurt her, ever. He would protect her, always.

"You okay?" the warmth of his body radiated onto her back, but she didn't turn around. She resisted the urge to lean back and fall into his hold.

"Yes," she answered, not thinking twice about the lie because she knew wasn't good at deception anyway. He would see right through her, but he wouldn't say anything about it.

He didn't see it as dishonesty, only a defense mechanism to hide from the appearance of vulnerability. She had feared weakness even as a young child, he wouldn't make her face it. Not when he was here to protect her.

"Alright," he said back slowly, following her gaze out to the city before them. Unlike the coal mines of District 12 or fisheries of District 4, District 2 was a bustling metropolis that enjoyed much of the same prosperity of the Capitol.

Granted there was still some hardship here, but there was no such misfortune that one could find in some other sectors of the country. Lucky enough, Cato never had to go hungry or worry about his survival outside of the arena. He wanted for nothing, until he met her.

No words were exchanged aloud, only the silent understanding that seemed too intimate to explain. He reached down for her hand, and she readily accepted his grasp. She couldn't say why, but everything felt better whenever he was close by.

Ignoring the insufferable chatter of the group of escorts in the other compartment of the train, she followed Cato out of the cart. Stepping out into the square, applaud and excitement roared all around them. Thousands of people moved as one sea of unrecognizable cheering faces.

'Welcome Back' read the mega screen plastered high on one of the high rise buildings. 'Our Victors'.

She cringed at that word, Victors. She might have escaped with her life, but the deaths of 22 other poor and young souls was nothing to celebrate. But intuition kicked in, and she hid her feelings away. Locking them away in her chest, she pressed her lips together as she kept her gaze on the ground under her feet.

Trying to avoid being overwhelmed, she concentrated on the beat her heels strummed against the cement. She drowned out the rest of the chaos, hoping to retreat into her own personal sanctity.

_"Clove!" _a distinct voice broke through her trance. She couldn't remember who it belonged to, but a certain quality to it sounded far too familiar. She got the same sensation she felt when she awoke in the hospital and found herself staring at Cato. _"Clove!" _the voice called out again.

This time, she could make more out of it. It was baritone, though not as deep as the one that belonged to the boy whose grip suddenly tightened around her hand. Cato had heard it too.

Her neck snapped up as she desperately searched to match a face and identity to the unidentified voice. But it was futile. There were too many people here, it would be impossible to pinpoint one of them.

Clove meant to say something to Cato, to ask him something. She opened her mouth, only to be ignored. He pretended not to hear her. Just like he could see through her lies, she could see through his. Despite his greater skill with deceit, she could read him effortlessly like an open book.

He didn't listen to her, silently leading her through the path that had been carved out by a selection of guards and Peacekeepers. They made their way to a large white building, with pillars and overreaching arches. She nearly lost her balance on the steps leading up to the entrance, had it not been for Cato's guiding hand on the small of her back.

Her ears were ringing from all of the noise. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

"What's wrong?"

His expression was unreadable, as per usual. He kept his gaze straight, though a hint of greater concern laid behind his blue eyes.

"I heard someone out there," she managed to get out.

His jaw tensed, his Adam's apple more prominent as he swallowed hard. He didn't something she wasn't expecting; he scoffed. He dropped her hand and stepped back, "Imagine that,"

Clove narrowed her eyes. Seven days they had spent together. There were soft whispers and tender words, but no jabs or sarcasm. This was yet another layer of his mask to be revealed. Everyone had been walking on eggshells around her, perhaps he had been too. Maybe this was his true nature, and she didn't like it.

"No, I heard _someone. _I'm sure," she stopped, "One person was calling my name,"

Why was he so disconcerted all of the sudden?

He averted his line of vision away from her, "Everyone out there was calling out our names," he shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly leaned away.

She thought to respond, but she bit her tongue. He wasn't in a good spirits, and it was beginning to influence her mood.

"Let's go," he grabbed her hand, more aggressively than before. "The mayor is waiting to officially welcome us back. He's probably scheming of how to further his reputation with our return,"

She stiffened at the mention of the Mayor, for reasons unknown to her. It was a reaction her body was used to making at the sound of the name, not one her mind could make out. "The Mayor?" she echoed.

"Yeah," he sighed, dread dripping from his tone, "My dear Uncle will throw a fit if we take too long,"

And just like that it began; the facts started to fit in place. One piece of the puzzle was added, though many remained lost. She should have known, from the first breath she took, that it would be like this. She might not have kept her memories, but that didn't make her a basket case to be carted off as some prize of war. No, her intuition was beginning to kick in.

People were hiding things from her. The government, the escorts, even the one person her heart ached to trust the most. Complications were arising, and there was nothing to do but wait for the treachery and secrets to bear their ugly heads.

She didn't mention a syllable as Cato led her to the set of double doors down the lobby. Who knew what other puzzle pieces awaiting her behind them?

Clove had no idea, but she was about to find out.

**End Chapter 3**


End file.
